


Gentle, Gentle

by Burgie



Category: Star Stable Online
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-15 00:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13601784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burgie/pseuds/Burgie
Summary: Marley Summers receives an unexpected house guest.





	Gentle, Gentle

Marley Summers looked up as he heard the sound of knocking on his wooden front door. He’d just sat down at his kitchen table, a wooden creation made by either himself or one of his brothers or sister (he wasn’t sure anymore, but the Summers brothers were known for having spotty memories), ready to eat the dinner of corned beef and boiled potatoes that he’d prepared himself for dinner. But, of the brothers, Marley was known for his hospitality, and so he set down his knife and fork, pushed back his chair, and walked over the wooden floorboards of his kitchen and through the small sitting room to the front door.

He didn’t see her at first, blinded by the dying rays of the setting sun. The sun was always brightest before it died, he’d found. But, once his eyes had adjusted to the bright light, he saw the woman standing on his front doorstep. She looked bedraggled, her hair a tangled mess and her pink singlet top and white tracksuit pants ratty and baggy and stained. Marley gave her a gentle smile all the same, however.

“Why hello there, stranger,” said Marley. “What brings you to my doorstep at this hour?”

“I’m sorry to intrude,” said Mrs Cloudmill, her voice the raspy one of a woman who had been a heavy smoker for years. He hadn’t seen a single cigarette since he’d started giving her riding lessons, however. He’d never seen this kind of healing process before, but he’d heard about them from some of the people who bought his horses. Addiction was a deadly thing, and tough to beat, but he applauded those who could take those steps.

“It’s okay,” said Marley, stepping to the side and inviting her into his house. “It’s good to have company sometimes.”

“I need a place to stay,” said Mrs Cloudmill, stooping to pick up a pink duffle bag that looked just as bad as her clothes did.

“Okay,” said Marley, watching her walk inside. “You can put your things in the back room, I have a spare bed in there.”

“Are you sure?” asked Mrs Cloudmill, looking up at him with her sad brown eyes. Her face was lined and worn, making her look far older than what he assumed was her forty years. His heart went out to her, just as it had on the day when Alex had first booked the riding lessons for her and she’d shown up in a rather similar outfit. In fact, he was pretty sure that it was the same one that she wore now.

“Of course,” said Marley, nodding. “My house is your house. For as long as you need it.” Mrs Cloudmill gave a sob, her eyes filling with tears, and Marley rubbed her back gently, tentatively, knowing that abused creatures often needed time and space to heal, as well as a gentle touch. Mrs Cloudmill may be a human woman, but she had that same scared, resigned look in her eyes. The look of someone who expected nothing but pain, for that was what life had given them for so long.

“Thank you,” Mrs Cloudmill whispered, giving a sniff as she stepped away from Marley and picked up the bag that she’d dropped in her surprise at his kindness. 

“Just through there, here, I’ll show you,” said Marley. He led the way through the sitting room, taking a different door. His house was tiny, so it was really only a few steps over to his spare bedroom. “The bathroom is the door to your left, and my bedroom is just up those stairs.” He gestured with his hand to the bathroom door and then the stairs, Mrs Cloudmill watching him attentively.

“Thank you,” said Mrs Cloudmill, giving him a smile as she opened the door to the spare room. Marley smiled back at her.

“Just come into the kitchen when you’re ready,” said Marley, opening the kitchen door. The smell of dinner wafted out, cooked corned beef and buttery potatoes and corn.

“Are you sure?” asked Mrs Cloudmill. “I can just get something for myself if you want, I really don’t mind.”

“No, no, I insist,” said Marley. “Come and have some dinner with me, please. I always cook far too much for myself as it is.” Mrs Cloudmill grinned, showing stained, crooked teeth, and he was pretty sure that he heard her crying again as he walked back into the kitchen. But that was alright.

Marley had finished his dinner and was buttering himself a slice of bread when Mrs Cloudmill walked into the kitchen at last. She took a seat at the table, where Marley had already loaded her plate with corned beef, potatoes, corn and green beans. Her eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed, but Marley sat back and let her eat. She ate like a starving animal, as though the food might disappear. But he noticed that, though she looked hungrily at the bread, she took a slice and tried to stuff it into her pocket.

“You don’t have to do that,” said Marley. “Please, eat as much as you want, I make plenty of money selling horses and other things.” Mrs Cloudmill dropped the bread, which bounced on the floor, and stared at him, her eyes wide, chest heaving like a frightened animal. Marley wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d jumped out of her seat and ran away.

“Are you sure?” asked Mrs Cloudmill. “I can find a job, pay you back as soon as I can.”

“There’s no need for that,” said Marley, placing his hands on the table. “No need at all. Eat what you want when you want, stay as long as you need, I don’t mind at all. In fact, it’s good to have the company.”

“Really?” asked Mrs Cloudmill. He thought he saw something in her eyes, and, though he hadn’t had anyone in years, Marley recognised that look.

“You don’t need to give me anything,” said Marley. “Not money, not your body, not work, nothing. I promise, this is a safe place for you, Mrs Cloudmill.” Her lower lip wobbled, but she bit it and smiled. It was a strange look, but at least it was a smile.

Marley wasn’t surprised to hear his door handle rattle that night. He sighed as he lay in his bed, not surprised or disappointed. A woman in Mrs Cloudmill’s position was bound to do something unsavoury, being used to doing unsavoury things simply to survive. Alex had told him all about it when she’d all but interrogated him to ensure that he would be a good trainer for her mother. Listening to her footsteps retreat from the door, Marley wondered if perhaps he should have followed her, just to ensure that she wasn’t beating herself up too much over it.

The next morning, Marley awoke to the smell of burning toast. He made his way down the stairs slowly, though, not wanting to embarrass her too much. He entered the hazy kitchen to find a frazzled-looking woman standing over a frying pan, frantically trying to scrape bacon out of the pan before it could burn too badly. Her hair was scraped back into a low ponytail, but stray strands of hair still escaped, sticking up madly. Silently, Marley popped the toast up and tossed the burnt bread into the bin. At the sound of this, Mrs Cloudmill spun around, tears in her eyes.

“I-I’m so sorry!” she stammered. “I was just trying to do something nice, cook breakfast for the guy who took me in, and then I went and ruined it.” She looked down at her feet, closing her eyes against the tears.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Marley soothed her, rubbing her back even while he reached around behind her to pull the bacon pan off of the red-hot hot plate. His arms weren’t quite long enough to switch the stove off entirely.

“No, I always do this,” said Mrs Cloudmill, her breath hitching. “I always go and screw up whenever I try to do something good or nice, normally I don’t even bother because of it but you were just so nice to me that I’d feel like a complete waste of space if I didn’t at least try.”

“Hey, your heart was in the right place,” said Marley. “That’s all that matters. Now, let’s open the windows and I’ll cook us a nice breakfast. Or we could go and buy something from Harold, he’s an excellent cook.”

“Well, I suppose that anything here would just taste like ash or smoke now,” said Mrs Cloudmill bitterly. She sighed. “I don’t have anything nice to wear, though.”

“Then I’ll buy you some clothes while we’re in town,” said Marley. “How does that sound?”

“Are you sure?” asked Mrs Cloudmill, looking up at him.

“Of course,” said Marley, nodding. “If you look good, you’ll feel good. Or so others have told me.” He chuckled, but it didn’t draw a smile from the woman. If anything, it made the pain of memory come into her eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel worse.”

“No, no, you couldn’t have helped it,” said Mrs Cloudmill, sniffing as she wiped her eyes with her hand. “It’s just that someone said something similar once, and she’s the reason my daughter and I weren’t close for a few years.”

“Let’s just go and eat, everyone feels better after a decent meal,” said Marley, hoping that this wouldn’t upset the woman. To his relief, she only nodded and followed him out of the house and into Silverglade Village.

Over breakfast, Mrs Cloudmill relaxed a little, even smiling slightly as she ate the bacon and egg muffin that Harold had made for her. Marley had his own egg and bacon roll, and they each had a black coffee.

“Thank you for this,” said Mrs Cloudmill once only crumbs, grease, and coffee grounds were left. Marley only gave her a smile.

“It’s my pleasure, my dear,” said Marley. “It would be unkind to do anything less.” Tears of pure gratitude streamed down Mrs Cloudmill’s face as she looked at him over the café table.

The seasons passed, winter into spring into summer into autumn, and Mrs Cloudmill was still there. She finally mastered cooking breakfast, and even brought Marley breakfast in bed a few times, on a tray that held a plate, a mug of black coffee, and a single Jorvegian wildflower held in a slim vase. She didn’t try to climb into his bed again, though she smiled at him more often. They even took long rides across the Everwind Fields or Fields of Gold once her riding skill had increased enough, and whenever Marley wasn’t busy. Mrs Cloudmill looked for work in town, but all that she managed to get were odd jobs. Marley never asked for money, though, and he always changed the topic whenever she brought it up.

And, as the months passed, Mrs Cloudmill’s condition improved. And not just her physical one, though she did begin to develop some muscle from the odd jobs that she performed and from riding horses. She was also eating better, which improved her physical appearance. Her hair now hung smoothly over her shoulders, especially after she’d gotten it cut at the local hair salon. Her skin looked better, too, and her teeth improved with regular brushing. She also bought herself some new clothes, though she’d looked quite uncomfortable at the picture of Anne that was displayed in the window. Marley wondered about it, but he didn’t ask. She’d tell him when she was ready. And if she was never ready, well, it wasn’t his place to ask.

“I think my daughter has abandoned me again,” said Mrs Cloudmill about a year after she’d arrived on his doorstep in tears. The two of them sat on his couch in the sitting room, drinking tea while they watched the sun set through the sitting room window. 

“She’s a very busy girl,” said Marley. “Saving the world is a big job, or so I’ve heard.”

“For once, I don’t mind,” said Mrs Cloudmill, turning to him with a smile as she put her hand on his where it rested between them on the couch. Marley felt his heart thud. A year ago, he would have reacted differently to this. But now… he could tell that she was ready. Ready to smile again, ready to be happy again. Ready to love again. So when she leaned in and kissed him, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he took her hands in his and returned the kiss, the warmth of everything filling him with a deep sense of contentment.


End file.
